


No Choice

by HiMiTSu



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, M/M, Vampire Credence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9912518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: Every hunter knew, getting captured equaled death. Percival Graves was not going to be an exception.





	

Graves came to to cold and absence of light. Not complete absence – there was just one lamp blinking weakly from the middle of the ceiling but it wasn’t enough to fight off the shadows in the corners. Blearily, he looked around, noting the dirty cement walls and the earth floor. A cellar, his mind supplied. Instincts warned him that even though his eyes couldn’t pick up any movement from the dark it didn’t mean he was alone. Whatever might be hiding there should have been already aware that he was awake, judging by the change in his breathing pattern and his heartbeat, so there was no use just lying there waiting for it to come to him.

Graves got to his knees in one sharp lurch and glanced around. No one was jumping at him right away but that too was not a reassurance. His weapons were gone, he felt their absence sharply as the lack of weight at his hip and his back. Even the small knife he kept hidden in his boot was taken. That wasn’t enough to break his spirits but it did spike his blood with fear.

He stood on one knee, plating himself firmly on the ground, braced for an attack and took stock of his injuries. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. He was a little sluggish but the mist clouding his mind was slowly lifting as he came more to his senses with every moment. He was heavily bruised but nothing was broken. As far as he could feel and see, he had no open wounds. That was good.

He was weak though, his limbs felt twice as heavy and with that he wouldn’t be able to move swiftly. Considering even his fastest on a good day was not enough, this was a big disadvantage. Still, Graves chased away the creeping desperation. He was still alive which meant he was still of some use to _them_. He could work with that. As long as he was still breathing, Graves could work with anything.

At last came a sound: it was a faint scuffling from the far corner, like someone shuffling their feet nervously. He squinted in the right direction but his eyes could not pick up anything. He tensed, alert and ready for a fight.

A hitched breath, uncertain, was not what he expected next. He was prepared for a monster to leap out from the dark, going for his throat with bared teeth and crazed eyes. But what he saw, when he could finally see, was a hunched figure stepping forward. Its feet shuffled in the dirt with two hesitant steps. Graves took in all the details as the figure slowly came out into the circle of light. The suit was dark but all rumpled and dirty. Shirt that had once been white untucked and hanging loosely. Jacket sleeves too long so that only tips of its fingers were seen. They were twitching sporadically.

A face, gaunt and pale with a mop of hair all messed up and dirty. A recognizable face nonetheless.

“Credence?”

It was so bizarre, Graves’s mind drew a blank. Then he was hit with a horrible realization.

“They got you?”

Credence was not meeting his eyes, staring at the ground as if it could provide a way out of this terrible situation. He must had been hanging around Graves’s house if they noticed him; maybe he was even on his way to see Graves. If so, it was Graves’s own fault that the young man got dragged into this.

His blood would be on my hands, Graves thought with cold certainty.

It was that kind of detachment that made him a good hunter. It was also the very thing that made it impossible for him to get close to people. In his mind a calculation of everyone’s worth was an endless process. How useful in a fight they could be? How strong?

Credence was not strong. He was a helpless creature, a weak human being so aware of his worthlessness he allowed the world to tramp all over him. He was so drenched in the misery of it, most people skipped pity and jumped right to contempt. So it was strange that Graves felt a fondness for him from the moment they met. Credence was hidden so deep into this shell you could not recognize the personality behind all the shyness and apprehension. But, shown even scraps of kindness, a smallest sign of understanding, he turned into something else completely. Something alive and vibrant and, dare he say, beautiful.

And seeing him here, in this modern version of a dungeon, sent a spike of regret through Graves’s heart.

“I’m sorry, Credence,” Graves said earnestly. He rose to his feet and took a step to the young man but stopped, unsure of how he wanted to proceed. Credence benefitted the most from comfort of a physical contact but this was not Graves bandaging his bruises, this was something else entirely.

Credence shook his head. It sent his hair flying into his eyes, messing up what already was a crazy mop. He was usually so put together, clothes old and patched up but clean and ironed, his hair cropped into a truly terrible style but with not a strand out of place.

“No, Mr. Graves,” he said. He was shaking. “ _I_ am sorry.”

His fingers gripped the hems of the suit. He stopped shy of the center of them room.

“Credence, I…” But he couldn’t promise to save him. Not this time. Not from _them_.

“So sorry,” Credence repeated fervently. His voice was weak but thick with emotion. He rubbed a hand over his face to wipe away the tears but only managed to smudge dirt all over his cheek.

Graves stepped to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. It left the yellowing lamp behind him and thus cast shadows over Credence’s face. “What are you talking about?”

He could see Credence press his lips together – they were pale, bloodless, just as his skin had almost no color. Even through layers of fabric his flesh felt ice cold.

“Credence?”

Graves felt trepidation crawl up his spine. Something was wrong here.

Credence let out a sharp breath, opened his mouth trying to speak…His teeth flashed, white, and something…something nagged at Graves, a thought he wanted to bury but it struggled back to the surface. It made him look, more carefully, at Credence’s mouth. Not in the way he used to, a couple of times, those quick wondering glances. He watched, closely, as his lips parted again and long teeth snagged the bottom lip, leaving small indentations but drawing no blood.

Those were fangs.

Graves sprung back. He watched carefully, now knowing what to look for. Skin sickly pale – but Credence’s skin had always been that white, with spider web of veins as bright tracks on his wrists. He had always been skinny, but that’s because he was poor and starving most of the time. Yet, when Graves tried feeding him a couple of time he had refused. Maybe he was hungry but no human food can satisfy that craving.

“I saw you in the daylight.” Graves said instead of throwing useless accusations. He had his verdict, now he wanted to understand how. Why? When?

Credence’s shoulders hunched even more as he replied, barely above a whisper, “In the shadows. Never in direct sunlight.”

Graves racked his brain for any memory of them meeting on the streets. It had been a rainy couple of months and it was pouring horrible on the day he first saw Credence. They bumped into each other again after that, and on that day too the sky was covered with clouds. But that meant _nothing_.

Even with the protection of shadows the light of day should be too intense to withstand.

“What are you?” Stupid question. They both know but Graves need the answer; need to hear it.

“Mr. Graves,” Credence said. It was a reproach and it came so unexpected, soft and fond. “You already know.”

He lifted his head.

Dark hair fell around his face, framing the sharp features and the colorless skin. Mouth half-open with the tips of his fangs worrying the lower lip. Eyes almost black.

He would look human, if not…if not for the crimson sparkle in that darkness of his eyes where the light hit them. It was a familiar red – Graves knew it all too well.

“When?” The next question held more meaning but was just as useless.

“A long time ago.” Credence shrugged one shoulder. There was fluidity to the motion, a strange inhuman grace that wasn’t there before. He still hunched and wrung his hands nervously but when he forgot to be anxious this otherworldly grace took hold.

“So you have been…what? Spying on me?”

“Yes.” Credence dropped his gaze apologetically. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Graves.”

“What now?” Harsh and unforgiving, anger fueled by betrayal.

Credence licked his lip and didn’t reply. His hands snaked around his waist, pressing into his midsection while he bowed his head. He rocked, lightly, on the balls of his feet. It looked like he was fighting the answer, pushing it down but it was taking too much effort and at some point he dug his teeth into the pale flesh of his lip and bit. A drop of blood welled up and trailed down his chin.

“You work for Grindewald?” Graves asked instead.

“I serve him,” Credence replied in a whisper.

Yes, that was the proper term but Graves had never made a distinction. Such subtleties didn’t matter with _monsters_.

There was a chance he could fight Credence, if he moved first he could catch him off-guard and get a few good punches in, throwing him off-balance, and dive for the door. Except the door would be locked and by the time Graves tugged on the handle only to know that for sure Credence would be back on his feet and digging his fangs into Graves’s neck. So, instead of bolting, he asked. “What now?”

Credence tilted his head to the side and back a little so that the light hit his eye, making the red tint glint maliciously. “That’s the matter of choice, Mr. Graves.” He kept changing with every moment, shifting from anxiety to confidence like two sides were waning inside of him. Graves thought his life might depend on which would win.

“Whose choice, Credence?”

Those eyes fixed on him, narrowed. That was the right question to ask, then.

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s an easy question. Someone is going to decide my fate.” Graves reasoned. The bravado wasn’t false but it was more mad determination than courage at that point. “Grindewald, you, or it could be me? If you let me go.”

“I’m not sure that’s a wise choice.” Credence commented. He rocked on his feet as if he wanted to lunge forward but thought better of it. “If you go you will die.”

“If I stay?”

“You will die too.” There was a pause, a catch of breath at the end of that sentence. It’s implication rang loud and clear though. For _them_ death wasn’t the end. “I really don’t want you to die, Mr. Graves.” His voice turned gentle, like it used to be when he came by Graves’s house some days. Unsure but so lonely he pushed himself into communications with others.

“But that is not really a choice, is it?” Graves smiled sardonically. 

“Yes, that one is not yours to make. That is already decided by my master.”

“So what is left…”

Finally, Credence gave in to the urge to come closer. He moved fast, like _they_ all did, and in the next second he was standing so close their chests brushed. He was staring right into Graves’s eyes.

“Please, Mr. Graves,” he whispered his plea. “Let me…”

Graves fought the impulse that ordered him to step back, get as far away from this monster as possible. He held his ground and pretended like he wasn’t scared. “Can you actually do that?”

Credence gave a small nod. “He sent me to you because I’m the only one who can.”

The lore stated that not every monster could produce others, to pass on the taint one must have it in their blood from the very beginning. From birth. As old books said, those dusty tomes written ages ago by men desperate enough to fight evil like this one, only those who were born from monsters and thus were monster themselves, not through a bite but through heritage of blood – only they could turn humans. Others, well others, just killed.

That meant that Credence, this poor weak creature, was one of the strongest monsters alive. Graves decreased his chances of getting past him down to zero.

This also explained how Credence could stand the indirect light of day. He was truly powerful, Graves thought with trepidation and awe.

“Please,” Credence begged. He reached out but aborted the motion and his hands hovered awkwardly over Graves’s shoulders. His expression was so miserable, so full of hurt. “Let help you.”

“This is not help.” Graves shook his head. He could never accept the offer. Better dead than a _monster_ – that was an unspoken rule of the hunters. Their own choice born out of intimate knowledge of these horrible creatures and their murderous ways.  They swore to protect the world and joining the enemy was the most terrible offence. Graves knew that. He didn’t need a reminder.

But he looked into Credence’s eyes, blood red but full of pain, begging him to succumb, and it made him less hasty to make the decision.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Credence added and this time he draped his hands around Graves. The embrace was so light it was barely there but it would easily hold him in place if he tried to escape. Credence sounded surer now, less weakness and more confidence.

Graves should had regretted the closeness he encouraged before. He wanted to help a lost soul but ended up being lured in by a devil in disguise. But he stood frozen, pinned in place by the gaze of those crimson eyes, and only could think how he wished he had kissed Credence the last time they saw each other. When everything was simple, he was just a guy taking a stroll with a friend.

“Will you stay with me?” The low tones of Credence’s voice turned silky, seductive – Graves had not heard him sound like that before. He leaned closer, catching Graves’s warm breath on his dead skin. “Please?”

Graves didn’t know if he had said anything or if he had given an imperceptible nod – it felt like he could not move even if he wanted to – but Credence pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth that tasted like defeat to Graves. Credence pulled back only to go lower and press his mouth to his neck. It wasn’t even a kiss, just a touch, a test. Graves struggled against the tightness in his chest, swallowed the lump in his throat.

Credence’s lips moved, unsure, looking for a better spot – nothing but a spectacle, he knew exactly where to bite. To give less pain, to take more blood. It was an art and a personal signature.

Graves held his breath. His hands were hanging limp at his sides but when the first pinprick of sharp teeth touched his skin they surged up to grip Credence’s elbows. Gentle hands were on the side of his face, tilting his head to the side, settling on his shoulders. Every touch tender like a lover’s caress.

Fangs dug into his flesh, piercing the skin with sharp pain. Graves stayed still, squeezed his eyes shut. It hurt, but there was something exquisite in that knife-edge pain and the first drop of blood spilling. Credence pushed back, let it paint a trickle down to Graves’s collarbone.

Then he leaned close again, digging his teeth in, widening the wound, making the blood flow. Sucking.

The cold hand spasmed on the other side of Graves’s neck, fingers gripping at his hair.

At that moment, Graves was aware of everything. Credence’s own dark tresses as they tickled his chin, the blood that rushed through his veins and flowed through the bite wounds, spilling over as Credence’s drunk messily. The rough texture of the young man’s suit under his palms. The shadows closing in. And the light overhead growing impossibly bright.

“Credence,” he mumbled, his tongue refusing to form the words properly. His mind was a sluggish mess.

He was slipping. The world titled on its axis and his knees were weak. Credence’s hold was the only thing keeping him up.

“Credence,” he repeated forcefully. He tried to tear himself away but the power stronger than him didn’t let him move. His hands tried to push down Credence’s arms but it was like was trying to move a wall. Useless. Hopeless.

The shadows from the corners crawled until they enveloped him whole and he fell into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

Graves came to to light. It was so bright his eyes hurt so he squinted against the whiteness of it and felt his way around by his hands. He heard a rustle of cloth from his right and then a hand was taking his own; it was a cautious skittish touch – so familiar. Graves tried to talk but his voice rasped on the first word so he had to clear his throat and try again.

“What happened?”

He was slowly coming fully to his senses: felt the soft ground and the cold from the stone wall, and the same sound of a person moving, their presence at his side brighter than anything.

“Your eyes will get used to the light.” Credence reassured. It irked Graves how he ignored the initial question but as he peeked through half-closed eyelids to see the same cell, it all came back to him. He felt the skin of his neck, torn by two puncture marks with a crusted trail running down to his shirt. Credence was anxiously watching him.

Graves didn’t want to say anything. With a groan he fell onto his back and watched the single lamp on the ceiling; its light still seemed too bright but it was something to focus on.

“I’m sorry,” Credence said.

Graves knew he wasn’t. So he entwined their fingers and brought Credence’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss to his knuckles. He felt liberated.

He felt betrayed.

“What now?”

“We wait.” Credence shifted so that his side pressed to Graves’s shoulder. He was looking down but his gaze was fixed on their hands.

“The choice is made.” Graves proclaimed hollowly. He glanced up at Credence, his pale face, his crimson eyes now shining as bright as the light overhead, and the blood on his lips.

He thought, with a dose of sarcasm, that he was looking at his future. What he had and what he was to become.

A slave.

A lover.

A vampire.

**Author's Note:**

> Also with an [eastetic](http://mysteryismyart.tumblr.com/post/157661307770/no-choice-gradence-vampire-au-with-a-vampire) for this story on my tumblr! 
> 
> I took a little break to work on my other AU ideas, but don't worry if you are following [Home of Shadows](http://archiveofourown.org/series/631199) I'm in a process of writing the next part!;)


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